


It's hard

by RebelWithHeartofGold



Series: Dean doesn't speak [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x23 coda, Dean Can't Speak, Dean Winchester - Freeform, M/M, coda 12x23, it hurts, season 12 episode 23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelWithHeartofGold/pseuds/RebelWithHeartofGold
Summary: It's still hard to speak. It's been so long





	It's hard

it's been a while since he's last spoken. Since he heard his voice. Sometimes he feels that the words come out only to be shoved back inside.

It's hard to speak.

It's hard to breathe. 

Dean knows how he's been acting, knows why he can't say a thing. He wants his last words to be to Cas, only for Cas. 

His last words were to Cas and now he's gone. Gone like the air of his lungs every time he wakes up and remembers the cold hard truth. It's like freezing ice water is washed over him when he remembers the harsh reality.

It's been a two years since Cas has been gone, just two years and Dean still remembers every detail vividly. He wakes up in cold sweats dreaming about it. He remembers all of it. 

He tries to take a deep breath. In and out. In and out. It's always been hard. 

Sometimes he wishes it would all end, the pain would just go, but he knows he deserves this. He deserves to wallow in his misery and self loathing. He deserves to suffer this tragic heartbreak because it was all his fault. 

He should've been there for Cas. 

He should've pulled him back in. 

He should've showed him how much he cares and how much he wants him here with them. With him. 

He should've. He should've. 

It's too late for all the should've and the what ifs. It's too late, but Dean can try. So he does get up every morning and walks out of his room. He does put two mugs of coffee for him and Sam. He makes them breakfast and tries to eat more than a few bites (though sometimes he can't get past a few bites without feeling nauseous). He knows he's getting thinner and the pudge in his stomach is gone. He knows his cheeks have gotten hollowed. He can eat a meal at times when he dreams of Cas happy and not the nightmares that plague him. 

He tries to listen to Sammy and help him with the research. He tries to engage in conversation by nodding along. He tries to help the other hunters without hunting. He tries to help with their research and navigate them through a hunt or find another one for them. 

He tries. 

He tries. 

He tries. 

But late at night, when Sam is in bed, Dean knows it's Cas' time. Dean always has time for Cas. So he grabs a few blue forget-me-nots from the garden he started on when he learned Cas always loved nature and his journal, and walks outside in the starry sky of the night. He makes his way past the small garden and reaches the mount. 

"Hey, Cas"

He always whispers so low he can't hear himself, doesn't know if he actually says it and sits down. 

He places the flowers on top even though they'd be dead by next week. He takes a deep breath and places his hand on top. 

Sometimes he sits down and stares at the mound of dirt and thinks of all his memories with Cas. Thinks of how he should've done things differently and whether or not it was the right thing. All his memories with Cas are permanently lodged in his brain with no way of getting out. He likes it that way. He likes remembering Cas and how black and messy his hair was, how blue his eyes were, how he wore his rumpled trench coat. 

Sometimes he would lay down near the mound of dirt and look at the stars. He would think of all the constellations and their names. He would think of their stories and their place in the sky. He would imagine Cas is laying down next to him, describing the constellations and pointing out each and every one. He smiles softly to that thought. 

Sometimes he would open his journal and write down his thoughts of Cas and his drawings. He would write what he did that day and the memory of Cas he thought of when he saw something that reminded Dean of him. He remembers the first time he saw a trench coat, he ran out the store with tears in his eyes. It's become much easier and he tries to have happy thoughts of Cas whenever he sees something like that. 

He draws sketches of Cas. Sometimes of his human form, sometimes with wings. Sometimes even his true form (which he searched up) but always he added the familiar blue tie and black wings that stretched so beautiful and wide. 

Sometimes there are days where he sobs and cries for Cas to come back to him. Sometimes he breaks and sobs uncontrollably and screams. He screams for someone to listen, someone to hear him and bring Cas back. No one ever answers, Dean believes it's because he says it in his head and not from his mouth. He's not ready to speak. 

But always he leaves feeling better, feeling lighter. He leaves with a knowing thought that Cas is watching over him right this second and always will be. Even when he's gone, he's always right there. Whether it's the drawings and words in his journal, or the star that shines so bright, or even in the tears that stream down his face. He knows. 

Cas is watching over him

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna check out my tumblr it's http://rebelwithheartofgold.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you for reading!! ((::


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